


an adjective meaning lively or brisk

by Hymn



Series: four letters [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Basically: Lance gives himself a little self-love and lets his mind run wild through possible kinks, But just a brief mention lol, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Sexual Fantasy, Implied Switching, Jesus I was bad at tagging, Kink Exploration, M/M, Manhandling, Masturbation, Missing Scene, Pansexual Lance (Voltron), Rimming, Spanking, Versatile Lance, also mild D/s themes??, explicit sexual content was meant to be, if i forgot to tag anything pls let me know!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-27 01:28:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18294065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hymn/pseuds/Hymn
Summary: Lance... really hadn’t meant to think about it.Like, atall. Because he was already feeling a little weird about the fact that his current go-to fantasy was starting to chat him up or something that seemed awfully similar. Veronica had taken one look at him around the middle of her shift and made a wounded, outraged noise in the back of her throat and said, “I’m just -- going to not look at you for -- ugh, how long, Lance?”“Hours?” he had responded dreamily.





	an adjective meaning lively or brisk

**Author's Note:**

> i was working on ch5 today and remembered i had written this a while back lololol. a missing scene from ch4, 8D;; enjoy??

an adjective meaning lively or brisk  
(spanking)

* * *

Lance... really hadn’t meant to think about it.

Like, at _all_. Because he was already feeling a little weird about the fact that his current go-to fantasy was starting to chat him up or something that seemed awfully similar. Veronica had taken one look at him around the middle of her shift and made a wounded, outraged noise in the back of her throat and said, “I’m just -- going to not look at you for -- ugh, how long, Lance?”

“Hours?” he had responded dreamily.

“Then go back now,” Veronica ordered, “because I cannot deal with this -- go and -- ugh, put on some deodorant at the very least. Get the fuck out of my place of employment.”

Rude, so incredibly rude, but really -- like Lance could possibly withstand the low thrum of lust that twisted at the small of his spine, refusing to abate ever since Kolivan’s _fucking face_ had done that -- that _thing_ \-- the thing with the hooded eyes and the smug little tuck at the corner of his wide mouth, the dark _knowing_ he seemed to exude, it just --

Yeah.

 _Yeah_ , okay.

Lance had taken Veronica’s suggestion and booked it back home. 

Because now that Lance had -- _mostly_ \-- come to terms with the weird terror of being in a position to fuck things up, but _not yet doing so_ , all he could think about was that moment in the coffee shop. He’d been in a constant state of mild arousal ever since it had happened, and that was just -- not an easy thing to deal with without squirming and flushing and being a general unfit-for-society nuisance.

He should probably, uh...take care of that.

But he really hadn’t _meant_ to think about it -- the spanking, specifically -- or to think of _Kolivan_ specifically, because again: Lance was feeling a little bad-wrong about the fact that he’d been jerking it to big, blue, and broodingly handsome for weeks leading up to their first actual conversation, and, okay, maybe it was a little late for that shame flag to fly, but _it was trying_.

Really, though -- who could actually blame him?

He made it maybe an hour -- forty minutes -- okay, _fine_ , fifteen whole fucking minutes squirming on the couch trying to behave before he’d taken a wild look around the empty apartment and made a mad dash for the shower, barely remembering to snag a towel on his way. 

_Just be vague_ , Lance tried to reason with his dick.

But he hadn’t been having much luck with _that_ lately, had he? He glared down at the already perky traitor between his legs, soaping up and letting the water seep warmth into his muscles and skin, loosen his spine so that the arousal bloomed, spread, took him over with a shivering tingle. Lance’s head tipped further into the spray, shoulders drawing back as his body arched into the sensation eagerly.

Still, he tried, thinking, _Keep it, uh -- super vague. Like, broad shoulders -- cool. Big hands? Totally cool. Deep voice, uh huh, we can -- yeah, imagine, mm, being tucked face first in a chest so broad and p-powerful, big ol’ hands gripping my hips, the lower fingers, maybe, shifting, drifting d-doown, oh!_

Lance shuddered, soapy hands slick against the muscular curve of his own thighs, slow and thoughtful as he dragged through the short, curling hair dusting them. Those broad shoulders he’d imagined had been distinctly familiar, the hands suspiciously blue, and that voice a growingly familiar cadence, and -- yeah, that was definitely a chest he had not so long ago affirmed his desire to motorboat, _fine_ , he was -- he was _shit_ at being vague, okay, and his hands just kept hesitating, drawing little, almost idle circles against his thighs, not ready to move inward but desperate for relief, he --

_Ah, fuck it._

\-- he let himself imagine it. 

Because, sweet god, what had that been earlier if not an invitation? He -- _Kolivan_ \-- with that direct, devouring stare, the predatory set of his shoulders, the way his big, powerful frame had leaned in to him like he’d hold him and trap him and _keep him_ , and was that creepy or hot or was Lance just wired weird because if he was being completely honest that kind of possessiveness also seemed kind of sweet, maybe?

And, yeah -- hot.

Definitely hot, okay, at least to Lance’s dick which was getting fat and insistent between his legs. Lance’s breath left his lips in a trembling little exhale as he fought not to touch himself just yet, turning his earlier uncertainty into a game of teasing pleasure. No touching, not _yet_. 

Now that he’d given in he didn’t want this to be fast, he wanted -- no, he _needed_ \-- to have Kolivan’s body pressed against his.

 _Fuck_ , yes. That glorious, strange, almost-humiliating-thrill of someone who could make Lance feel _small_ , but not weak. Okay, maybe weak- _kneed_ , jesus. Lance slapped a palm against the cool tile, fingertips of his other hand tickling the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, now, thumb ghosting sensation against the thin skin of his balls. 

Yeah, _definitely_ weak in the knees, fine, and maybe weak in willpower and his ability to not be easy as flying fuck for this impossible, sexy, stern alien with his stupid fucking elbow patches and -- and -- _uhn_.

Lance wanted to lick that fucking blue stripe on his chin, jesus _fuck_.

Widening his stance for better stability, Lance leaned into the arm he’d braced against the wall, keeping his fingers stroking against his own skin slow and smooth, nothing too intense. Just a -- a building sort of pressure, a gentle, insistent pleasure that could build and build until he couldn’t take it anymore. He trailed a hand down his side, glancing against the curve of his hip, his ass, tucking a finger into the crease where cheek met thigh. He found himself squirming a little, imagining it was -- was _Kolivan_ doing this, touching him just _so_ with curious, hungry, deliberate fingers.

 _No need to be so careful, professor_ , Lance coaxed within his own mind, gaze hazing out as he conjured the response -- that strong grip, palm so wide and hot, _squeezing_ in warning: _I much prefer being thorough, Lance. Hm, I think I might enjoy conquering every inch of your skin -- tasting every freckle, every dip of muscle until you are delirious and drunk with lust, eager to do anything I -- I --_

Okay, yeah, his brain might not be up for proper Kolivan-speech at this juncture, jesus shit.

“Kolivan,” he murmured aloud because he had no shame and Lance had the apartment to himself so Lance could probably finger himself until he _bellowed_ with it, really, but he’d -- he’d take this, instead. Whatever _this_ wound up being. He just -- 

How badly could you want something before it became dangerous to your own well being?

Because Lance might have long passed that point.

Face twisting with the desire to be near, to have, to get in close and be allowed to _stay_ there, damn it, Lance grit out, “ _Kolivan_. I -- ah.” His own hand tightened, gripping his flesh, hand sliding so that the tip of his pinky glanced close to the rim of his hole, making his whole ass clench with greed. “Ah, _fuck_.”

He let go, rolling his body, trying to figure out this breathing thing all over again.

Heat had burrowed beneath his skin, set up a home. Lance felt restless, reckless, shifting to and fro and gritting his teeth, because he wanted it and he was making himself work for it, letting himself have this moment where he just -- just indulged _the fuck_ out of his own wicked fantasies and yearnings, but he still couldn’t quite let go entirely -- was trying to hold back and make it last.

Washing off the last of the soap, rinsing out his hair and humming into the water, he let himself think about how it had been so nice being wrapped up in Kolivan’s arms. Lance had been chasing that feeling through his dreams as well as his waking fantasies ever since the first time. Warmth and comfort and big strong arms all around him, holding him, he --

He was just -- it -- _damn it_. 

There was no way Lance _couldn’t_ follow that line of thought all the way around to that sexually charged, overly heated threat that Kolivan had growled out, low and throaty like Lance could now _happily_ imagine he might sound in bed, or up against a wall, or with Lance on his knees in a parking lot maybe late at night, honest, it wasn’t like he was _picky_ , okay.

(Also, Lance _might_ have a little bit of an exhibitionist kink but no one had yet had the privilege of experimenting with him to find out and thus could _not_ definitively prove that, _so_.)

Giving in, Lance wrapped his fingers around his erection, squeezing and hissing and biting at his lip as he closed his eyes and really _thought_ about it, imagined what it might be like even though he’d never really entertained the notion of spanking before, not with any serious thought outside, like, wanting to smack a juicy ass once or twice just to watch it jiggle, but not -- not _spanking_ , that was a completely different level, and -- and like how was it even _hot_ , exactly, the pain thing or the humiliation thing? He didn’t know if he was into that, but --

Lance was a curious guy.

He could at least give it a shot in his imagination, right? And Kolivan didn’t have to know -- hell, if he did, he could just deal, right? Because it was Kolivan’s fault that Lance was even imagining this at all, that he had the apartment to himself and the water on high and was rocking into the tight grip of his hand while pleasure and arousal tightened his skin and shivered through his muscles brighter and more intensely than usual.

Definitely Kolivan’s fault, okay. _Jesus_. What had he said? _If you keep testing me, then perhaps you will find out_. Yeah, that. And -- _Behave_. God, okay, maybe Lance liked a little discipline. Maybe Lance, at least in his head, could imagine calling Kolivan _sir_ , squirming a little as that quiet, deep, sexy voice sternly reprimanded him, and then --

Ah, how would this go?

Lance faltered for a minute, groaning a little in frustration because he just, this wasn’t in his wheelhouse, right? How did -- Okay, fine, skip this part. Just get to the -- get to the good stuff? It -- was it gonna be good? 

Barely aware that he’d stopped moving, Lance stood still beneath the rush of hot water and tried to picture it -- about what it might be like for Kolivan to bend him over -- the desk? Maybe, that was kind of hot. Doing it in his office when anyone might come by and knock on the professor’s door. -- a stool? the bed? a chair?

No.

No, if Lance was going to -- hell, if he was going to imagine being spanked, then he may as well _go for it_ , right? 

So he imagined what it might be like for Kolivan to fucking _arrange_ him over his lap, pulling and tugging and jostling Lance with firm touches and a firmer grip like Lance was easy to maneuver, like Lance wasn’t considered _tall_ and _broad_ and _muscular_ at all. Lance had never been _manhandled_ before, but he was pretty certain Kolivan might be up for the task.

Like, it would take barely any effort, probably, for Kolivan’s big hands to hold him right where he wanted him. He’d done it before, after all, that time in the coffee shop when Lance had nearly slipped off his stool. And -- _yeah_ \-- Lance had liked that a lot. Lance wouldn’t be able to see Kolivan’s face like this, laid out over Kolivan’s lap with his face in the mattress, one hand on Lance’s back holding him still -- but he’d hear Kolivan’s voice. That low, soothing rumble gone rough and intimate with desire, maybe, and --

 _fuck_

\-- that other big, blue, powerful hand stroking across the vulnerable, bared skin of Lance’s ass, just... _entirely at Kolivan’s mercy_ , and so, so fucking exposed. It’d be nothing for Kolivan to part his cheeks, to spread them to -- to _look_ at Lance, to touch him how he wanted when he wanted, and that -- _that_ \-- that was the thing that had fire sweeping through him, had Lance’s heart thundering and lungs collapsing, dick jerking in his grip, it --

 _Vulnerable_ , Lance would be so vulnerable -- would just have to _take_ it -- _fuck_ , that -- 

Lance whimpered against the knob of his wrist, forehead pressed now against the cool tile of the bathroom wall. His other hand worked at his erection, twisting and stroking half-desperate, thinking in bumbling, giddy daze _Yes, sir, please!_ and he bucked his hips, clenching his ass helplessly because -- _fuck_ fuckfuck yes -- Kolivan’s body against him, all around him, caging him in or holding him up. 

Lance couldn’t keep the fantasy going, thoughts all jumbled up on the edge of coming. Imagined attempting to straddle Kolivan’s lap instead, and -- oh _jesus_ \-- how big would Kolivan’s dick be, like seriously? 

Lance sort of just imagined it as this great big heated length hidden by those stupidly tight wool trousers Kolivan sometimes fancied, something that Lance could sit on and grind down against, _hard_ , letting his own dick rub up against what Lance was nearly dead certain was a freaking gorgeous, tautly muscled stomach, and -- getting Kolivan all messy, lust sparking up Lance’s spine as he arched, Kolivan’s huge hands wrapped around his waist, sliding down to massage at the globes of Lance’s ass, _squeezing_ \--

He --

Oh, oh shit. 

Fuck the spanking, that -- Lance just wanted Kolivan’s hands on him, really. Kolivan would just have to _show_ him one day, maybe, teach him how nice being spanked could be if he wanted to, Lance would -- hell, he’d sign up for that class in a heartbeat because it was _Kolivan_ , and -- and Lance wanted him. Wanted, just -- he didn’t know. Everything? Anything?

His brain narrowed down to blue, lightly furred skin and wide, gleaming gold eyes, and the memory of that body hot and strong against his own as his hand flicked up and down his length, so turned on it actually _hurt_ , and he grit his teeth because he had to come, _needed_ to come, fuck this shit, just -- fuck, _fuck_ \--

 _Fuck me_ , he wanted to say -- or beg -- to Kolivan, in bed and naked with their bodies flushed and a wild look on both their faces. _I don’t care how or who does what I just -- your hands on me, I need -- I need you to want me, to -- fuck fuck kiss me fuck me make me --_

It rolled through him, then, boiling hot and helpless; hooked him in the back of his chest and pulled him up on the rising crescendo of sensation. He tensed, toes curling in a wet squeak against the tile as his orgasm tore through him, eyes clenched shut, making a faint, warbling sort of “O-ooh” sound that was lost in the rushing water.

_Holy shit..._

Lance slumped against the tile, breathing hard as his body tried to regulate itself, the crippling need of before finally gone and his body going lazy with the lack. Shit. Shit, that. Well, it -- had not gone how Lance intended, and also was probably not something he should have done, and also it had been really, _really_ hot, and he maybe understood, now, exactly how much he wanted to get Kolivan’s dick somewhere in the vicinity of his hands or mouth or ass, he didn’t much care. 

Hell, that orgasm had been about as intense as the one after Kolivan had worn that red fucking blazer, okay? When Lance had imagined eating out Kolivan’s ass until the professor fucking _cried_ he felt so good. 

Lance just...

Wanted everything? All of it? Lance was really, really not picky about _how_ , so long as it was also _Kolivan_ and _repeatedly_ and _with great enthusiasm and mutual orgasms._

Yeah.

Yeah, okay.

“I am so, so screwed,” Lance whispered, dripping, torn between after-glow and the deep, almost frightened desire to make this thing with Kolivan fucking _work_ , because Lance really, really wanted a chance to see if mutual orgasms were going to be as intense, or _more so_ , because honestly it was a toss up as to whether Lance would survive an experience like _that_.

But, as previously noted -- Lance was a curious guy.

He was definitely up for finding out.

One thing at a time though -- first, he should maybe work on getting up the courage to ask Kolivan out on an actual _date_. Maybe. Someday. When Lance was less afraid of immediately running the alien off with Lance’s terrible ability to put his foot inside his mouth and _still talk around it_ , because he was an idiot and -- and too much, way too much, he --

So screwed.

So, so, _so_ screwed.


End file.
